The Stone King

A waterfall of broken stones Cascades down the coarse surface Of the stone wall near my school. In the sparkling afternoon light, A dull rainbow shines from the stone Of faded reds and oranges, and murky yellows.

The rocks are fragilely held together By a carpet of evergreen moss And willowy grasses tummeled by the breeze. Leaves dance on the flat roofs of granite, And hold to the base like shy children. Its touch is hard and cold to my skin. Out of place in nature’s play The rock wall towers over us, Its dull eyes watching every passing day.

I have never payed much attention to its dour, fatherly observance. Nor have I noticed how every winter Under its heavy burden of ice and snow Though it threatens to crumble It holds together, a fragile package Meant for all of us to treasure.

But even though the leaves fall Like fresh December snow And the birds chirp out “Behold, the winter is here!” The Stone King stands alone, Regal and tall in its icy glower, Patiently watching us all.

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